My Single Friend (37 page)

‘Course, Mum,’ says Dave angelically.

I give him a filthy look, then realize Mum is waiting for me to respond.

‘Of course,’ I mumble.

‘Now, bugger off the both of you and let me do Your Lordship’s tea.’ She opens the oven and pulls out a tray, smoke billowing around her head. ‘Oh God,’ she coughs, glaring at the blackened chips, which have clearly been overcooked by about an hour and a half. ‘You could arm a Trident Submarine with these.’

Dave leaps up and pushes past me, as eager to escape this bollocking as the ones we got twenty years ago. When I try to leave, Mum touches my arm.

‘Hang on a minute.’ She puts the tray on the hob.

‘Yes, Mum?’

She pauses. ‘Is something the matter, Lucy?’

‘What do you mean?’

She leans on the work surface and removes her oven glove.

‘Why would you think I was having an affair?’ she asks softly. ‘Have I ever done
anything
like that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ I sit down again. ‘I put two and two together and made five, that’s all. I’d also just seen Dominique’s boyfriend cheating on her. It probably put ideas in my head.’

‘There’s a difference between Dominique and her fella and me and your dad,’ Mum laughs. ‘Thirty-odd years, for a start.’

‘I know.’ I feel silly now. ‘I suppose . . . maybe I wish Dad didn’t take you for granted so much.’

‘Take me for granted?’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Love, we’ve been together
for ever
. All couples take each other for granted after that time. It doesn’t sound romantic, but that’s reality.’

I frown. ‘But he’s never even bought you an anniversary card.’

‘So what?’ she says. ‘It doesn’t mean we don’t love each other.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course.’

She looks at my expression and sits down. ‘Your father was a real catch when we were young, you know.’

‘What – Dad?’

‘Yep. Good-looking
and
charming. Honestly, he had half the girls in Liverpool after him. If you think it’s bad with our Dave now, you should have seen your father.’

‘Well, I bet you were a catch too,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve seen your old pictures – you were really glam.’

‘Maybe,’ she shrugs. ‘I never thought so in those days, though.’

‘Why?’

She ponders. ‘I don’t know, really – I just didn’t. If I’m honest, I used to try to make out I was better than I really was. I used to be a terrible one for exaggeration, Lucy.’

‘Oh, what did you say?’

‘I’d tell people all sorts of nonsense. You saw how difficult it was to drag me to salsa? I’m not one of life’s natural dancers. But when I met your dad, I managed to convince him I was on the brink of being signed by Pan’s People.’

‘The dance troupe?’ I giggle.

She chuckles. ‘I was always at it – pretending I was more talented or glamorous than I was. Fortunately, your dad worked out I was boring old Carolyn Gates and decided he liked me anyway.’ She gives a sigh. ‘Be glad it hasn’t run in the family.’

I stop laughing and something strikes me.

‘Why are you blushing?’ Mum asks.

‘Am I? Oh, no reason,’ I say.

‘The point is, your dad and I have always loved each other, warts and all. The fact that we don’t run down the streets shouting it every other day doesn’t make it any less true.’

I’m sure she’s right, that after thirty-one years together that’s normal. I can’t help preferring the Hollywood version of true love though.

‘Lucy,’ she says again, her tone quite gentle for a change, ‘is that the only thing that’s the matter?’

‘Yes, of course. Why do you ask?’

‘Look, I may have got the wrong end of the stick, so by all means tell me to butt out.’

‘What are you on about?’ I ask, bewildered.

‘Ever since this makeover business, I’ve sensed you’ve been a bit . . . funny. I don’t mean to pry, love, but do you have feelings for Henry?’

I bite one of my nails. ‘Of course. He’s my best friend.’

‘That’s not what I mean and you know it.’

As I meet her eye, something inside me seems to break. Tears well up and my lips start wobbling uncontrollably.

‘You can tell me, love. I’m your mother.’

I take a shuddering breath and attempt to compose myself. I fail. Instead, I collapse into a heap of tears.

‘I’m in love with him, Mum,’ I sob. ‘Only, so is one of my best friends.’

Mum and I were never big on heart-to-hearts. I knew a girl at university who was happy to discuss with her mother the finer details of everything from contraception preferences to inverted nipples. Not Mum and I. We stuck to whether I’d stocked up on baked beans, and that was how I preferred it.

Today though, I’m discovering that she’s not a bad shoulder to cry on. And cry I have.

‘I think it’s too late, Mum,’ I weep, as she puts her arm around me.

‘It’s never too late,’ she promises.

‘But it’s not like he’s going out with just anyone now. He’s going out with Erin. Worse than that, she loves him. And he thinks she’s “sexy in an understated sort of way”. Oh God!’

Mum frowns. ‘I’m not saying it’s not complicated. I know you have your loyalty to Erin. But I stand by my guns. You’ve got to tell him.’

‘But, Mum, I tried to tell him before I found out he was seeing Erin and it was hard enough then. Now it’s impossible.’

Mum leans back in her seat. ‘Can I tell you something, Lucy? I’ve always thought there was something special between you and Henry.’

‘Have you?’ I feel a flicker of hope.

‘What you’ve got – what you’ve always had – goes beyond friendship. Even when you were twelve, it was as if you really loved each other.’

I smile shakily. ‘I suppose we did, in a way.’

‘I never thought anything would happen because I assumed there was no attraction there.’

‘That was
then
– I fancy the pants off him now. Only now he can have anyone he chooses.’

Mum hesitates. ‘So you keep saying. But I can’t help but think, Lucy, that given the choice . . .’

‘What?’

‘He’d choose you.’

As I close the door and walk to my car, Dad is on his way in.

‘All right, love?’ he says, taking his keys out of his back pocket.

‘Hi, Dad,’ I mutter, wanting to get to the car before he notices I’ve been crying.

Something makes me pause. ‘Hey – Dad?’

He turns round. ‘Yeah, love?’

‘When was the last time you bought Mum flowers?’

He looks at me as if I’m speaking an obscure dialect of Swahili. ‘Flowers?’

I nod. ‘Yeah. Even from the garage. Or supermarket. Anything.’

‘Your mum and I don’t go in for that sort of thing,’ he laughs, shaking his head as he puts his key in the door.

‘Dad,’ I say, before he can get inside the house, ‘you should. You really should. When was the last time you did something really special for her?’

‘I’m always doing special things for her. I got Sky Plus for her, didn’t I? And I’ve got something coming in a bit that she’ll love.’

‘Oh?’

‘A Jacuzzi,’ he tells me proudly.

‘A Jacuzzi?’ I repeat in disbelief. ‘Where the hell are you going to put one of those?’

‘We’ve got plenty of room since you and Dave moved out,’ he says casually. ‘It’ll be great. Millsy’s coming over to plumb it in, in a couple of weeks’ time.’

Giving up, I open my car door and toss my handbag on the passenger seat. ‘You really are the last of the romantics, aren’t you?’

He narrows his eyes. ‘D’you know what, Lucy? You sound more like your mother every day.’

The last time I watched Henry playing rugby he was sixteen. I’ve never seen him play in adulthood and can’t help thinking that if I had, I’d have realized long ago how attractive he is.

He’s sensational on the pitch, tackling fearlessly, scoring effortlessly, playing faster and harder than anyone else. As he celebrates another try – his third of the match – I squeal with pride as his team-mates dive on top of him.

Then I remember he’s not mine. His rippling, muddied biceps aren’t mine. The toned torso under his gloriously sweaty shirt isn’t mine. The long, muscular legs aren’t mine. They’re Erin’s.

Along with the gorgeous smile and gentle personality that makes him unconcerned about what anyone thinks as he waves to me energetically at the sidelines.

‘What a fantastic surprise,’ he says, running over as soon as the whistle blows. ‘I didn’t think you were interested in rugby.’

‘I hadn’t realized I was. I was really getting into it then!’

‘Glad to hear it,’ he grins. ‘We’ll make a fan of you yet.’

‘Er . . . I wouldn’t go that far.’

He laughs. ‘Can you give me ten minutes to shower and change? I’m in a real state.’

When Henry emerges, he looks just as sensational, his hair wet from the shower and his clean jeans and T-shirt clinging to his body. Today he smells of fabric conditioner and deodorant, and this makes my pulse flutter uncontrollably.

Mum’s words flash into my head again.
Given the choice, he’d choose you
.

I have no idea whether it’s true, but I do know one thing: this time I’m telling him. It might destroy everything – but I’ve got to tell him.

‘Good match, Henry.’ The voice belongs to one of his team-mates, a tall, Afro-Caribbean scrum-half. ‘Catch you later,’ he adds, slapping him on the back.

Henry raises his hand. ‘See you, Carl.’

When we’re alone again, I take my courage in both hands. ‘Do you want a drink?’ I ask him. ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about. Something I’ve
got
to talk about.’

He slows down and looks at me. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I reply hastily. ‘Let’s get out of here, shall we?’

The beer garden of the Black Lion is relatively quiet – probably because it’s unseasonably chilly for the start of July. I head for our favourite spot, under the jasmine in the cobblestoned patio. I pull the arms of my jumper over my hands and shove them between my legs as Henry returns from the bar.

‘Are you not too cold?’ he asks, putting down the drinks and rubbing my back. As his hand makes contact with my body – even through two layers of clothes – warmth radiates through me.

‘I’m fine – are you?’

‘You know me: I’m used to a bit of cold. We needed to be suffering frostbite before Dad would put on the central heating when I was growing up.’

There’s a silence. I can see he’s expecting me to say something.

‘How’s work?’ I decide I need a warm-up to the grand declaration.

‘Brilliant, actually. The clinical trials in Tanzania that some of the team are involved in are really promising.’

‘Hey, that’s great.’

He nods. ‘It’s complicated though because malaria isn’t like polio or measles where there’s one vaccine – you need lots of different ones to fight it. But we seem to be going in the right direction.’

‘How exciting to be involved in something like that.’ I put my elbows on the table.

‘You’re right, it
is
exciting. It’s going to be difficult to leave . . .’

He stops mid-flow, giving me a stricken look. As his words sink in, my brain starts whirring. Was he about to say what I thought?

‘To leave?’ I repeat.

He takes a ponderous mouthful of beer, lowering his eyes. ‘I suppose I needed to tell you at some point.’

‘Tell me what?’

‘I’ve been dreading it because I feel awful about the flat and—’

‘Tell me
what
, Henry?’ My voice is wobbly.

‘Though I’m sure it’s silly. I know you’ll be happy for me, because that’s the way you are.’

‘Henry!’ I snap. ‘Tell me what you’re talking about?’ My heart is thumping as I stare at him in a befuddled daze.

He swallows. ‘You know how Erin’s been talking about going travelling?’

‘Yes.’ I suddenly feel numb.

‘Well, she’s finally decided to go ahead.’

‘Oh.’ For a tiny, split second, my heart surges with joy at the thought of Erin being off the scene. I know it doesn’t make me a nice person, but I can’t help it.

‘When she suggested that I should go with her, at first I dismissed it. Then, after a while, the idea seemed more appealing. An opportunity that was too good to miss.’

I look up at him again, realizing what he’s trying to tell me. My stomach turns inside out and my chest feels as though someone’s tightening a belt round it.

‘I never took a gap year before university and that’s probably one of the few things I regret in my life,’ he continues. ‘I guess I didn’t have the confidence then. But that’s changed now.’